Poetry About The Talking Mail Man The Talking Mail Man

The Happiest Mail Man In The World

Cindy had told me about him, but I didn’t pay attention. Something about The Talking Mail Man.

Oh. I said. 

But one day I was sitting by the window which I love to have opened – even when it’s cold – and I heard some animated talking below. 

At first, I thought someone was at the door, but I hadn’t heard a knock.  Still the animated talking continued outside. 

Then I was trying to determine the tone of the man talking below. 

There was seldom a pause and his is the only voice I heard. But I was still confused about a certain tone in his voice – below all that animated energy – what was behind that?  

And then. 

I heard it. 

That was it. I immediately knew whoever it was still laughed. (That’s a good sign these days.)

And that’s when I realized what Cindy had meant:

The Talking Mail Man

It was him. 
So then I started listening for The Talking Mail Man. And I learned. 

This guy never stops talking. It could be hailing and he’d still be on the phone. He easily could have been a stockbroker. A billionaire who liked delivering the mail. 


Things That Never Made It Into Print

By Things That Never Made It Into Print

Keep it simple ... Radical ... Writer, Artist, Dancer, Musician, Chicago Betty

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